My parents were good people who loved me and my sister and took care of us well. My dad died when I was a young child; yes, things changed for all of us and very much affected the way our mom was toward us. Her life hadn't been very easy before my dad's death; it was far more difficult to carry some of those burdens as a grieving widow with two children who didn't ever (and would never) quite measure up to her vision, the neighbors', the children of family friends, etc. (No, my sister and I were not resilient enough to deal with this in healthy ways; but, as a parent, I can't even imagine how hard all must have been for my mom.) But, she encouraged us--smart, kind women who are good people but not excessively impressive at anything except being ourselves--supported us; prayed for us; taught us good things; formed us into responsible; contributing people; provided the best she could; forgave us; loved us and loved our husbands and children. She was affectionate with us, faithful, kind about me living far away, thoughtful, and concerned. It was just unfortunate and confusing--and crushing--that every couple of years or whenever she could possibly work it into conversation, she would say quite seriously and so sincerely say, "If I had it all to over again, I never would've had children".